The Way Home
by ArwenisWholocked
Summary: George Weasley and Angelina Johnson have suffered through- and survived- the Second Wizarding War, but with no small amount of damage. This is the story of their recovery as they find their way back home. I will bring in other characters, don't worry! Dates and pairings based on JK Rowling's pairings and those of writer My Dear Professor McGonagall.
1. Introduction

The Way Home

ArwenisWholocked

_**Introduction**_

Hey, people! This is sort of an intro, I guess… So basically, this is a story focusing on George and Angelina after the Battle of Hogwarts and the Second Wizarding War (*adjusts glasses studiously*). Other characters will be used, too. Most of the dates and pairings will be based on a variety of sources, like Harry Potter Wikia, Pottermore, and the dates I found in My Dear Professor McGonagall's stories (READ THEM! SHE IS AMAZING!). So hopefully they're accurate… I have a surprisingly organised list of dates and events saved somewhere, so hopefully I won't contradict myself.

Enjoy!

Love,

Arwen ;)


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**2 May 1998**

George Weasley stood in the ruins of the entrance hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, staring out at the wreckage surrounding the castle. Heaps of rubble were scattered across the hills and sinking into the moat, clouds of lingering dust floating in the evening sunlight.

George sighed, passing a scratched and bloodied hand over his face shakily. He was tired, so tired… traces of dried tears cut through the dirt and blood smudged on his cheeks, and each time he moved, a different group of muscles sent out waves of pain and stiffness to plague him.

Reluctantly, he headed towards the Great Hall, his feet dragging unwillingly along the ground. He didn't want to go back and face the bodies, their pale, cold faces blank and slack in death. His steps faltered; how could he stay in the same room as Fred, his bright red hair tangled and matted with blood, his eyelids closed over his intelligent, mischievous brown eyes with the knowledge that they would never open again, that he would never speak another word, pull another stunt? Fred was gone, dead… nothing could change that.

George forced himself to keep walking until he reached the Hall. Witches and wizards darted around the room tending to the wounded. The sound of spells echoed around him as others began the work of clearing away the rubble and repairing the castle.

His eyes met Ginny's; she was sitting on a bench, leaning against Mrs. Weasley tiredly. She smiled at George, who managed to return it. He kept walking, through the doors of the Great Hall and outside, where Mr Weasley and a few others were levitating a pile of crumbled masonry over to a larger pile of broken stones. He felt that he ought to help, but exhaustion and grief still held sway over his battered body, robbing him of the will to do anything except watch.

He wandered around the castle for some time until he found a deserted area of the balcony that wrapped around the building. He sat down on the ledge, dangling his feet above the long drop to the grounds below.

_We won_, he thought hollowly, trying to summon some excitement or joy at this realisation; however, he could find none. The war had claimed so many victims that it hardly felt like a victory. There would be no celebrations of this day for a long time…

A movement behind him caught his attention, and for a moment he thought it must be Fred coming to find him and talk as they surveyed the damage.

But this hope was shattered a second later as he remembered the horrible truth: his twin was dead.

Swallowing hard, he turned to see who was approaching, and was slightly surprised to see Angelina Johnson standing behind him.

"Hi," he said.

She smiled a little but said nothing as she sat down next to him. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, the ends of which smelled suspiciously like smoke and looked rather charred. A bandage was wrapped around her upper arm, and George wondered what had happened.

"You alright?" she finally spoke; her voice was strained, threatening to crack, and George could tell that she was fighting back tears.

George shrugged noncommittally, blinking back tears of his own. He glanced down; Katie Bell was waving frantically for help as she held a bloodied young student in her arms.

"They're all so young…" Angelina whispered. George looked at her; tears were running slowly down her face as she stared vacantly out at the hills in the distance. "All the people who died. Professor Lupin… Tonks… Fred…"

She mouthed Fred's name again, her shoulder shaking as she sobbed silently, leaning her head on George's shoulder. He put his arm around her awkwardly, unable to think of what to say as his own tears coursed down his cheeks.

Below them, a group a witches had rushed to help Katie, followed by Seamus Finnigan, who was limping towards Katie as fast as he could, and… Percy.

A flash of anger suddenly swept over George at the sight of his brother. It was _**his**_ fault Fred had died; he'd been with Fred the whole time! He could have helped Fred, protected him—

_That's ridiculous, _part of George argued. _Percy couldn't have done anything to save Fred. Fred died valiantly, a hero of the war, and no one can be blamed except the Death Eaters._

But George's heart still railed against Percy, unleashing his anger and despair at the loss of his twin brother on Percy for his incompetence.

Angelina had stopped crying and now simply leaned on George's shoulder, watching the activity below them listlessly as she tried to control her staccato breathing.

"We should help," she said finally, sitting up and looking at George. He nodded wordlessly and followed her as she made her way to the main courtyard to help clear the ruins.

Angelina tried to exercise manners as she attacked bowl of hot onion soup in front of her hungrily. She glanced around the hall and saw Alicia Spinnet walking towards her, cradling a bowl in one hand and a slice of bread in the other. She seemed relatively unhurt except for the long bandage on her forehead which was stained slightly with blood. Alicia smiled tiredly at Angelina, who gave a small wave at her friend.

"I'm starved," Alicia sighed, dipping her bread into the soup and taking a bite. "Are you okay?" she added, looking at Angelina worriedly.

"I'll be alright," Angelina said with a slight shrug, still scanning the hall. Dennis Creevey was sitting next to a woman who looked like his mother, crying in her arms; Angelina felt a pang of sorrow as she remembered seeing Colin among the dead. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were sitting together across from Ron Weasley and Harry—

Harry… the boy who, mere hours ago, had defeated You-Know-Who (_Voldemort,_ she reminded herself).

As if he had felt her watching him, Harry glanced up and locked eyes with Angelina. She smiled at him, a look full of gratitude for what he'd done. He smiled back and returned to his conversation.

Katie Bell slid onto the bench beside Angelina. "Where's George?" she asked.

Angelina frowned and looked around for him without success.

"Not sure," she said, somewhat worried. "I should go find—"

Alicia shook her head. "Give him some time alone; he'll need some space to grieve for Fred," she advised Angelina. Katie nodded in agreement.

Angelina bit her lip; then, she sighed and sat back down. "I'm just worried that if he's alone for too long, he'll stop interacting with the rest of us…"

Katie smiled. "Well, don't leave him for _**too **_long, then…"

They sat in silence for some time. The atmosphere around them was one of extreme weariness and the aching bitterness of loss; however, there was a stronger feeling—one of hope and emerging joy, a strength shared with those who were hurting the most. Angelina felt her spirits lifting slightly—

A noise broke through her reflections. It had been so long since she had heard such a noise that it took a while for her to realise that it was the sound of Alicia laughing. Katie was grinning at her friend's mirth, and suddenly, Angelina felt the corners of her mouth twitching; Alicia's laugh was infectious.

"What?" she giggled. "What's so funny?"

Alicia shook her head, unable to speak. Angelina rolled her eyes, and before long, the three of them were laughing, Angelina still confused as to what she was actually laughing at.

And as she laughed, Angelina felt, for a moment, the weight of her sorrows lift from her shoulders.


End file.
